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HE WAS GONE
The Illegal Rhodendron

The Singing Housepainter

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I was married. We lived in Mrs. Carter’s stucco home literally right across from the freshman gate. And I was on the third floor in the back so I could overlook Bob’s house. The proximity was part of the reason why I was helpful. I wasn’t the only one but I began to run errands, […]
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We tried to help, but he was a very proud man. I remember one time I came by and he was shoveling snow in his driveway. I said, “You really shouldn’t be doing this,” and I wanted to take the shovel. He wouldn’t let me. Rarely have I seen him so determined. At one point […]
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One time, he did not tell us but he was living in the basement, I think maybe so he’d have more guest rooms available for visiting friends. He would then have to negotiate the staircase that was very steep, with one handrail, and we were shocked. But he wanted to do everything his way and […]
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Did you ever know the painter? The one that painted his house? I’m not sure if she was a student of his but he befriended this gal and I guess in his conversation with her felt that she could use a part-time job. So he said, “Do you want to paint my house?” And she […]
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That was me. I was an anthropology major at Vassar and I wanted to study India then I heard about the Williams-in-India program from somebody. So spring semester of my sophomore year I would hitchhike or borrow a car to go to Williamstown to go to these preparation seminars. And that’s when I met Bob. […]
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He described that he had conceived of the compensation scheme as by the hour. After several weeks he also told me there was a lesson to be had here in political economy–he was not convinced that the house would ever get done. If it didn’t get done quickly, in all of his illness he was […]
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He didn’t hover around me. He just let me do it. Every once in a while he’d come out with his cane, big crookedy smile. See how I was doing. Tell me that the hearings are on or something. He would just be laughing at everybody being caught in their lies to avoid telling the […]
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